Holding tightly to her bookbag, Maria raced down the hall. Of all days to oversleep! But she'd had very little sleep on Friday night, what with the whole dreamwalking thing, and on Saturday her nerves had kept her awake for much of the night. After her talk with Michael on Sunday, she'd headed home, only to fall soundly asleep on her bed, script in hand. She'd slept deeply for twelve hours, only rousing as her alarm went off--for the third time. Groggily, she shook her head. Darn those snooze alarms anyway.
She practically ran through the empty halls, not even pausing at her locker on her way to Mrs. Gideon's English class. If she didn't stop, she'd only be a few minutes late...
"Nice of you to join us, Ms. DeLuca," the teacher said dryly as Maria stepped inside the room, all eyes on her. Well, most eyes, anyway. One pair of brown eyes remained fixed on the desk in front of him. Uh-oh. Was that Michael back again? Was everything they'd talked about yesterday a big waste? Or a dream? What--
She realized that Mrs. Gideon was still standing at the blackboard, looking at her. "Sorry," she muttered, and headed for her desk, only to trip on someone's backpack. Catching herself before she could fall, she sank slowly into her seat, red-faced, trying to ignore the muffled snickers around her.
"As we were discussing..." Mrs. Gideon went on, going back to her lesson plan. Maria pulled out her notebook and a green gel pen and pretended to take notes, in reality not paying any attention whatsoever. What a way to start the week off. She hated Mondays. The only thing that could make this morning worse would be a...
"Pop quiz," she heard. Oh no. She sighed as the quiz papers were passed out, but picked up her pen and dutifully tried to remember what she'd read of Hamlet on Saturday. It was more than she'd expected. Evidently dreamwalking-and-Michael-induced insomnia was good for her study habits, because she actually knew most of the answers. Maybe this day was looking up.
She gave a little half-smile as the bell rang and the quizzes were collected. Shoving her notebook and pen back into her bag, she turned to see...
...Michael. He was there in class, actually looking at her, in front of God and everyone. He wasn't bolting out of the room to avoid her, like he'd done since the start of the school year. She froze, the half smile pasted on her lips, until he nodded. Then she began to get the feeling back in her limbs and was able to move once more. She flashed him a cheeky grin before dashing out the classroom door.
She hadn't imagined it after all. He wasn't himself yet, but he was trying. Just catching her glance--voluntarily, yet--was a start. Swinging her bag over her shoulder, she bounced happily on her way to her locker. Liz was there, waiting.
"Where were you this morning?" the dark-haired girl demanded. "I expected to get a call from you yesterday, or at least see you before class."
"I know, I know," Maria answered. "I overslept."
Her friend studied her. "You look pretty chipper, 'Ria. How did it go?"
"How did what go?" Maria responded innocently.
"You know, the talk with Michael. Did he listen to you? What ha--"
Liz's voice cut off abruptly as she caught sight of a tall, spiky brown head moving through the crowd in the hall around them. She stared as Michael saw her and nodded, coolly saying, "Hey," before continuing down the hall.
Maria watched in amusement as Liz turned from the retreating alien towards her, a stunned look in her eyes. She tried to hold it in, but a smile burst its way across her lips. "Oh, do you have a lot to tell me," Liz admonished, seeing the happy glint in her eyes.
"I know, chica," Maria answered, her eyes dancing.
"So is everything--"
"No," Maria interrupted. "He's still doing the road show of Jeckyll & Hyde. I'll tell you all about it at lunch, okay? I've already been late to one class today."
"Sure," Liz said dubiously. "But you're not getting out of it any longer than that."
Maria nodded, and then finished dialing her locker combination. She swung the door open, intending to stash her copy of Hamlet. Instead, she paused and curiously eyed the folded paper that was lying on top of her French textbook.
"Okay, Liz, who's been slipping notes into my locker?" she asked.
"I don't know. It wasn't me."
"Well, there's one way to find out," said Maria cheerfully. She unfolded the sheet of notebook paper and stood staring at it blankly.
"What?" teased Liz. "Somebody leaving you love letters?"
Maria gave a shrug, and said, "Nope. It's nothing. See you at lunch?"
Smiling, Liz nodded and headed down the hall. Maria looked once more at the paper before refolding it carefully and shoving it into her bookbag. Her mind elsewhere, she headed to her next class.
* * * * *
Max sat back on the bench and eyed Maria thoughtfully. "So, the hole in the invisible barrier is still there," he mused.
Maria nodded, ignoring the uneaten lunch on the table in front of her. "So it would be easy to dreamwalk him and pull him out. No wall to break down this time," she pleaded. "I want Michael back. You want Michael back. Even Michael wants Michael back. So let's just go in and get him out already!"
"We still don't know why you got trapped there in the first place," pointed out Liz. "I don't think we should risk it again until we know more."
"Liz is right," Max said. "It's too dangerous."
Maria threw her hands up in protest. "I can't believe you! We are so close to having him back, and you're still letting some trifling notion of possible danger stand in our way? I want Michael back! Now!" she cried.
Isabel spoke up. "Maria, can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Go right ahead. Whatever you have to say can be said in front of everyone," Maria insisted stubbornly.
Isabel hesitated and said, "We all want Michael to be himself again. But do you think that maybe you're letting your feelings get in the way of your common sense? I mean, just because he's back won't mean that he'll be with you." She flushed. "I'm not saying that because I...It's not...Look, I don't go along with the whole destined mate idea. Michael is my brother. I just don't want you to get your expectations up. I don't want you to get...hurt," she finished quietly. Alex met her eyes and smiled. The others looked down at the table, not wanting to cause Maria any more distress.
Maria looked calmly at the taller girl and spoke. "Isabel, it's not that. Yes, he's hurt me in the past, and knowing Michael, he'll probably hurt me again in the future. But none of that's important right now. My friend--our friend--has a problem. We have to help. It's that simple." She locked gazes with Isabel and added, "Whatever Michael does or doesn't do after that is up to him. I can't force him to feel what he doesn't feel. I know that. But I won't give up what I feel, either. Not for anything."
"I'm not asking you to, Maria. I just don't want you to be hurt, that's all."
Maria smiled. "I know. Thank you." For a moment she allowed herself to bask in the warmth of this burgeoning friendship, and then she swung her gaze around to the others and said forcefully, "So are we gonna dreamwalk him or what?"
"Yes," said Isabel immediately, in support.
"We don't know enough," warned Max. Liz nodded in agreement.
"Well, it's two to two," said Maria. "Alex, your thoughts, please?"
The gangly teen looked up from the bottle of root beer he'd been toying with. "I don't know," he admitted. "I know I was all gung ho when we needed to get Maria out, but now I just don't know." He saw Maria frown and explained, "I want to help him. I just don't know if we should do any more tramping around in his head without him agreeing to it."
Maria pounced on the idea. "So if he'll agree, then you'll agree?"
Alex slowly nodded. "Yeah."
"Then it would be four to two," Maria said. "Fine. I'll get him." She stood. "He's sitting on the other side of that tree across the quad."
"That is still so weird," complained Alex. "That you can just feel where he is."
"Yeah, I can," said Maria, straight-faced. "But I also saw him go over there a few minutes ago!" She grinned and ducked to avoid his crumpled-up napkin. "We'll be back in a minute."
She headed determinedly across the quad, her steps almost as light as her heart. Get Michael over there, get him to agree, and this could all be over tonight. Things could go back to normal. Whatever normal was. She was halfway across the quad when she heard, "Hey Maria!" and felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she found Mark Blumenthal smiling at her. "You up for some extra rehearsal after school? I'd like to go over the scene we blocked on Friday."
"Sorry. I have to work today," she responded.
"The Crashdown, huh?"
"Yep. Look, I'm sorry to rush off, but I've kind of got to talk to someone," she said distractedly. "I'll see you at rehearsal tomorrow."
He hesitated for a moment, and then shrugged. "Sure. See you then."
She gave him a half-hearted smile, her attention already zooming back across the quad. Her feet soon followed. She walked quickly up to the tree and stood next to it for a moment before clearing her throat. Michael, who had been staring at some unknown spot in the distance, looked up at her.
"Hey," she ventured, giving their usual greeting. He watched her, not speaking. "We need to talk to you for a minute."
"We?" he asked hoarsely.
"Yeah. Everybody. We're working on a plan."
He raised one eyebrow, but when she said, "Well, come on," he got to his feet and followed her back across the quad. Reaching the table, he looked around for a moment before saying, "Maxwell. Isabel. Everyone."
Max didn't waste time with pleasantries, and got right to the point. "Michael, we've been trying to decide how to help you. Since you say there's still an opening in the wall within your mind, it might be possible to go back and finish what we started on Friday. But we have mixed feelings about it."
"You have mixed feelings, Max. Mine are perfectly clear," Maria burst out.
"What exactly is it that you want to do?" asked Michael calmly.
"Have Isabel take me into your dreams again. Pull you out. I can do it, I know I can," she insisted.
"No way," Michael said without hesitation.
"What do you mean, no way? I can do it!" she said, a little more loudly.
"Doesn't matter if you can. You're not going to," he replied matter-of-factly.
"And who are you to tell me what I do and don't do?" she hissed. "You may be the second-in-command of your little Czechoslovakian trio, but I am not in your army! I am a free agent, and I do what I want to do. Got that, buddy?" she yelled, poking him in the chest with a finger.
Michael caught her finger in his hand and looked down at her flushed face. "I believe I was the owner of my own mind, last time I checked. So if I don't want you rooting around in it, you won't."
"Owner of your own mind? Please! Who was it that got himself stuck there in the first place?" she said in frustration.
Michael's voice began to rise as he shot back, "And what? You think you could do better with it? If you had your way, all I'd have in my head would be bad pop music and stupid Aromatherapy stuff."
"It can't be so stupid--you have a bottle of it!" she reminded him hotly.
Alex, along with the other three, sat mutely watching the conversation escalate into a downright argument. It was both the same and different from the Michael-and-Maria squabbles they'd witnessed in the past. There was a brittle, icy edge to Michael's anger that seemed strangely out of place. But wait a minute. Anger? Emotion from the icy Michael? He groaned to himself. This wasn't going to be another channeling thing, was it?
He watched as Michael reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a familiar-looking vial. "This?" the alien shouted. "Fine. I don't have it any more, okay?" And with that Michael threw it as hard as he could across the quad. Alex mentally assigned him two points when it landed in an open trash can on the far side of the grass. Maybe Michael should try basketball.
He was pulled from this thought by a cry of anger from Maria, who, trembling with fury, swung her arm at Michael in an open-handed slap. Michael caught her hand a few scant inches from his cheek. For a moment, Alex thought Michael was totally going to lose it, but then the alien froze. Shutting his eyes tightly, he breathed hard for a moment before he seemed to regain control. He finally opened his eyes again and looked down at the red-faced girl in front of him. He was still grasping her hand in his, and he slowly released it. "No," he told her quietly.
Maria stared at him for a moment before turning sharply on her heel. Rushing to the table, she grabbed her bookbag with fumbling hands, dropping it on the ground in front of him and spilling its contents at his feet. "Dammit!" she muttered, and stooped to gather her things. Michael bent to help her, but a glare from her stopped him in his tracks. Thrusting her books into her bag, Maria said, "Liz, I'll talk to you at work," before bolting from the table. Michael watched her go, then turned resignedly back to the quiet group in front of him.
Liz and Max exchanged speaking glances and Liz rose, saying, "Let's head over to the library, Alex." He followed her, calling back over his shoulder, "I'll see you guys later."
Max turned to Isabel, concerned at her look of distress. He put a hand over hers and squeezed it comfortingly. "It will be all right," he told her quietly. "I promise." She gave a shaky smile back, knowing that some things were beyond his power.
"Michael," Max said, addressing his motionless friend, who was staring, eyes unfocused, into the distance. "Can we talk about this?"
Michael remained silent for a moment before replying, "I'm not ready, Max."
"All right," Max responded. "We'll give you some time." He rose to his feet, gathering his lunch trash, and looked down at his sister. "Coming, Izzy?" he asked gently. She nodded and rose, not glancing in Michael's direction, but then turned and walked to him.
"We're here when you need us, Michael," she said, and touched his cheek softly. Then she turned and walked away, her head held high. Max gave his friend one last sympathetic glance before he followed.
For a while, Michael didn't move, even when the bell rang to signal the end of the lunch period. Finally, he let out a deep breath, and lowered his head, tiredly rubbing the back of his neck. His eye was caught by a small piece of folded-up paper near his feet. It must've come from Maria's bookbag. He picked it up and began to shove it into his pocket, when some impulse made him stop and study it. It was a sheet of regular lined paper, torn from a spiral notebook. He unfolded it and looked at its contents. It was a sketch--a rather badly done one--but not so badly done that it wasn't clear who its subject was. It was Maria, and a dark, jagged X was scrawled over her image.
CHAPTER 14
Maria sighed and leaned her forehead against her locker in the Crashdown's break room. She'd gotten through her shift on auto-pilot, thankfully not messing up any orders in the midst of her mental haze. The restaurant had been particularly busy for a Monday, and Maria was grateful, because she'd also been able to avoid having any sort of significant talk with Liz. She could barely bring herself to think of the events at lunch, let alone talk about them. But now that the Crashdown was closed, she knew it was coming.
She was right. Liz stepped through the door to the break room and approached her, asking hesitantly, "Are you all right, 'Ria?"
Still leaning against the lockers, Maria whispered, "I don't think so." She didn't protest as Liz grabbed her bookbag and street clothes and pulled her up the stairs and into her room. Still in her uniform, Maria sank down onto Liz's bed. She numbly pulled the antennae from her hair and turned them over in her hands. Liz sat quietly next to her and waited for her to speak.
Maria swallowed and forced out, "I...I just can't believe I did it. I almost hit him. After everything he went through with Hank, and then I almost hit him. I love him, Liz. How could I do that to him?" she asked, tears in her eyes.
Liz put her arm around the shaking girl. "Oh, Maria," she said, at a loss for words.
Lost in her misery, Maria allowed the words to pour out of her without pause. "It's the worst thing I could have possibly done. He's been through so much. He doesn't talk about it, but I know living with Hank was...bad. Really bad. He didn't deserve to be treated like that, Liz. Not then, and not now. I mean, everyone always worries about how Michael could hurt me. But we all forget I can hurt him, too. How could I try to hit him?"
Liz gently stroked her friend's hair. "We all make mistakes. Michael has made them, too. He knows you love him. He'll forgive you. But you need to forgive yourself."
"I don't know if I can," Maria whispered. "I don't know why I got so angry with him. I just wanted to help him, and suddenly I was just...furious."
"I know," replied Liz. "I've never seen you that angry. It's not like you."
"It was like I couldn't control it. One moment I was fine, and the next..." Her voice trailed off.
Liz tried to calm her down. "You've been through a lot in the last few days. You almost died. Don't forget that." Maria opened her mouth to protest, but Liz went on, "I'm not saying that what happened was right, but give yourself a break. You're under a lot of pressure right now. Don't be so hard on yourself. It will be okay."
Maria nodded, only partly convinced. "I...I need to talk to Michael," she said slowly.
"I think you're right," her friend said gently.
"I just hope it goes better than today did," Maria said glumly. "I got so angry, he got so angry."
Something occurred to Liz. "Maria, you're right--he got angry. Really angry. Not at all calm and controlled, like he's been."
Maria nodded. "I know. He starts to get emotional, to feel things, and then he closes his eyes and shuts it off. It's happened before."
"The Michael we see here is cold and unemotional. Was he the same way when you were with him in the dream?" asked Liz, an idea beginning to percolate in the back of her brain.
Maria smiled, thinking back to the time she'd spent with Michael that night. "No, he was definitely emotional. He was angry and frustrated, and he had absolutely no problem showing it. And he was also...well, sweet. He worried about me, and he held me so I could fall asleep. It was nice."
"So it's as if we have two Michaels, one with emotions and one without, and one keeps affecting the other," stated Liz analytically.
"Yeah, kind of. Yesterday, he did say that he could feel his other self, because of the hole in the wall. Maybe that Michael is, I don't know, leaking through to this Michael."
"Maybe. But if this Michael says he wants to be whole again, why does he keep shutting himself down whenever any of the other Michael leaks through?" wondered Liz.
Maria was struck by this question. "I don't know. Maybe I need to talk to him about that too."
Liz gave a small smile. Maria was once again regaining some of her spark. "You do that, 'Ria. But no violence this time, okay?"
Maria looked at the floor for a moment, embarrassed. "Okay. At least none from me, I promise."
"So we're all right? You're all right?" Liz asked.
"Yeah, I am. Or at least I will be," answered Maria, with a sigh. She stood and said, "Well, I should have been home by now. I'd better change and get there before my mom calls the cops." Quickly scrambling out of her uniform, she pulled on the skirt and top she'd worn to school.
"I'll take your uniform down for you in the morning," Liz offered.
"Thanks." She picked up her bag and suddenly remembered the paper she'd found in her locker that morning. "Oh, Lizzy, I wanted to show you something." She put the bookbag on the bed and began to rifle through it. "Remember that note I found in my locker?"
"Uh-huh."
"Well, it..." It wasn't there. She dumped her books out on the bed and held them upside down, shaking them one by one. No note. That was weird.
"What about it?" she heard Liz ask.
Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her. Or something. "Oh, nothing. Never mind. It's not important, I guess."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow." With a slight frown on her face, Maria headed for home.
* * * * *
Pulling into the school parking lot, Maria found an available spot and turned off the ignition. Another night with very little sleep. She'd lain in bed, trying to figure out how to talk to Michael about what had happened. How to apologize. Who knew saying you were sorry could be so hard? Well, at least she wasn't running late again today. In fact, she was about twenty minutes early. Not being able to sleep had its advantages after all; now she could take her time and make her way leisurely to class before--
Without warning, a piece of paper flattened itself with a bang on the windshield in front of her. She gave a startled shriek and sat for a moment breathing heavily, looking at the paper without seeing it. Suddenly realizing it hadn't attacked her car by itself--that there was a hand holding it onto the glass in front of her--she swung her door open and hopped out. "What do you think you're doing?" she said indignantly, realizing too late just who was standing there. Michael. Of course. What a way to start off the morning. Well, now was her chance. "Oh Michael, I'm glad you're here. I need to apol--"
He interrupted her, his voice harsh. "What the hell is this?"
"What is what?"
"This." He held up the paper he'd flattened against her windshield. She looked at it; it was the sketch she'd found in her locker yesterday, the one of her. With the jagged X through it.
"What are you doing with that?" she demanded.
"You dropped it at lunch yesterday. Where did you get it?" he demanded right back.
Why was he acting all pissy with her? Fine. She could give back as good as she got. "Maybe I drew it. Why do you care?"
"You don't draw like that."
"Just because I'm not you, Mr. van Gogh, it doesn't necessarily follow that I can't draw. I have lots of talents you don't know anything about!" she snapped.
"Will you just answer the question? Where did you get it?"
"None of your business," she retorted, grabbing at the paper.
Michael held it up beyond her reach and barked, "I'm making it my business."
Maria grimaced and said, "You and what army? Oh, I forgot, you are your own army. Now give it to me!" She moved in close to him and put one hand on his shoulder, using it to balance herself as she stood on tiptoe and reached for the sketch. No success. He was too tall. She looked up, ready to give him a piece of her mind, only to see him staring hungrily down at her. Oh my. Of its own accord, her hand slowly fell to rest on his other shoulder, and she gazed up at him questioningly. Swallowing, she began, "Michael, I--"
He tore his eyes from her and took a step back. Closing his eyes, he stood motionless until the tension in his face drained away, and he relaxed and began to breathe evenly. She could have reached out and taken the paper from him, but something in her made her remain still. When he finally opened his eyes, he folded up the paper and put it in his pocket before looking at her.
"Why do you do that?" she asked softly.
"What?"
"Close off the moment you begin to show any emotion. It's like you're keeping the other part of you out on purpose."
"You think I..." He swallowed, and then went on, "You think I'm doing it?"
"Well, yeah."
"Yeah, I guess that's what you'd see." He turned and took a step away from the car, then stopped as she spoke.
"Michael, if that's not what's happening, tell me what is. You say you want to be yourself, but it looks to me like any time there's a chance you'll break through, you're stopping yourself from doing it. If I'm wrong, tell me. Let me help you."
He moved toward the front fender of the car and leaned against it. Looking off into the distance, he said slowly, "It isn't me, it's him. The other me. I told you, he doesn't want out."
"Why not?"
He didn't answer her question, saying instead, "Every time I get angry, or upset, or even just see--" His voice cut off. He paused for a moment before continuing as if he'd never stopped, "Well, get angry, anyway, I start to feel things. The more...emotion...I feel, the more of him I can feel in me, too. I start to feel..."
"Human?" she asked quietly.
He shook his head. "Normal. Well, normal for me anyway. Whole. But then there gets to be a point when he's stronger than I am, and he shuts himself out."
"Oh," she said, taking it all in.
He ran an unsteady hand through his hair, then gazed out over the parking lot. "Look, just...just give me some time to deal with this all, okay? I'll take care of it. I just need to do this on my own."
"Okay," she said slowly. "I'll try. But it's hard. It's hard to see you every day and not be able to talk to you, to know something is wrong and not be able to help fix it."
"I could start skipping school again," he offered seriously.
She looked at him and rolled her eyes. "You're just jonesing for an excuse to cut school again, aren't you? Well, not on my account, buddy."
He nodded and they stood in silence for a moment. Finally she ventured, "Michael?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry for almost hitting you yesterday."
He shrugged, not looking at her, and said absently, "No big deal."
"It is a big deal." She swallowed, then went on, "I had no right to do that. I'm sorry."
"Look, you didn't even make contact. No harm, no foul."
"I still want to try and make it up to you. What can I do?" She heard herself ask, and for a moment was both grateful and sorry that this wasn't her Michael. If it were, she knew what he'd do. He'd yank her into his arms and proceed to claim her mouth with a passionate kiss...
Instead he looked at her consideringly. "Fine. You want to do something, you can explain this sketch," he said, pulling it out of his pocket.
"That's not what I meant," she protested, but stopped under his watchful eye. "Okay. I don't know what it's about. I found it in my locker yesterday. Someone must've slipped it in as a practical joke or something. It's nothing."
His eyes narrowed as he studied her. She shifted uncomfortably and demanded, "So can I have it back now?"
"If it's nothing, then you don't need it, do you? I think I'll hold onto it for a little while."
"Michael!" she burst out. "Split personality or not, do you have any idea how exasperating you can be?"
Was that a smirk on his face? He stood away from the car, looked down at her and said softly, "I try," before heading across the parking lot to the school. Maria leaned against the car, worn out from all this wrangling. Slowly a smile spread across her face. Yep. Exasperating. That was Michael, all right.
CHAPTER 15
Maria sat in the nearly empty auditorium and tried to concentrate on her script. She should have been using this time to memorize her lines, but instead, she slouched down and let her head fall back tiredly onto the back of her seat. She glanced beneath shuttered lids at the stage and watched as Pamela, Melanie and Debbie ran through the title song from the show. They were pretty good, actually. Their voices blended well, and they had most of their movements down pat. Too bad they couldn't be a little friendlier; she'd be having a much better time at rehearsals if they didn't practically ignore her existence.
Oh well. Another week or two and the pit combo would start rehearsing with them, so Alex would be nearby. One friendly face. Well, not the only one, really. Ms. Bedinger was perfectly nice--for a teacher--and she was getting along really well with Mark, thank goodness. Since they had to spend so much time working together.
Speak of the devil. Mark sat down next to her and smiled. "How's it going?"
"Okay," she answered, then nodded towards the stage and commented, "The opening number's going pretty well."
"Yeah, they're doing a great job. Almost as good as we are," Mark teased.
She smiled back at him. "You know, it's really great to work with someone who's so humble and in touch with himself."
"That's me, Mr. Humility," he joked back. They watched for a moment as Ms. Bedinger gave the girls onstage a few notes and they began the number again. "I can't believe we've gotten almost all of the scenework blocked," he commented. "Ms. Bedinger's really pushing us through it this year."
"Is she always like this? So driven?" Maria wondered aloud.
"She does like to have lots of time to run scenes once we're off book," he answered. "She'll do a lot of polishing then. And it's not like you and I have a whole lot of choreography to worry about, so it's easier to find time to work on the scenes."
"That's true."
"I hear your friend Whitman is going to play in the pit, huh?" he asked.
Maria smiled fondly. "Uh-huh. He's really good. I can't wait to hear how they all sound."
"They start rehearsing yet?"
"They started Tuesday. Another week or so, and they'll be ready for us to run through numbers with them."
"That'll be good." There was more silence as they watched the rehearsal in progress.
"So what's up with you and Guerin?" he asked suddenly.
"What?"
"You and Guerin. I couldn't help but notice the uh...conversation...you two were having at lunch the other day."
"You saw that?"
"Half the school saw it. Man, has he got a good arm."
"Oh." She flushed and bit her lip.
"Hey, don't worry about it. It's not like everyone's buzzing about it or anything. It was four days ago. You know good ol' West Roswell High. There's something new and more exciting to gossip about by now."
"Yeah."
"I just wondered what was up. You looked upset. Can't have my leading lady all distracted now, can I?" he asked with a teasing grin.
"What? And you think I have been?" she asked indignantly, sitting up. "I've worked really hard this week!"
"No, no. I didn't mean that. Just wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I'm fine."
"And Guerin?" he prodded.
"He's...he's a friend."
"Yeah, it sure looked like it," he said dryly.
"It's complicated. There's a lot going on..." Her voice trailed off as he grunted noncommittally. "Why?" she asked suspiciously. "Just how much of the conversation did you hear?"
"Not much, just the tail end. Enough to know you two weren't on the best of terms."
"We're fine."
He eyed her, eyebrows raised. "Okay," she said, "we went through a rough patch there. But we're still friends."
"He's kind of a strange friend for you to have."
"Why?" she asked crossly.
"You know, you just don't seem like you should be moving in the same circles, that's all. He's weird."
She frowned at him, saying, "Well, maybe I like weird. Lots of my friends are weird. God knows I'm weird."
"Yeah, but on you, it works," he said. She looked at him skeptically before bursting into laughter at his hopeful expression.
"Okay, you dug yourself out of that one," she said between gusts of laughter. He joined in with a chuckle.
Their laughter died down as they heard, "Maria? Mark? If you're ready, we'll try running the 'Skid Row' number." With a smile, Maria tossed her script on top of her bookbag and headed for the stage.
* * * *
Humming to herself, Maria crossed the parking lot to where she'd left the Jetta. She was lucky that her mom hadn't needed it, so she could get from rehearsal to the Crashdown in time to work the Friday evening shift, which was always busy. She'd actually gotten out of rehearsal early, as Ms. Bedinger had decided to finish up the afternoon working with Mark and Dennis Cooper, who was playing Mr. Mushnik. They'd had a productive rehearsal, and Maria was feeling pretty good about things. She would head on over to the restaurant and maybe even get a head start on the weekend's homework before work. Liz would have a heart attack.
Opening the car door, she tossed her bookbag onto the passenger seat and hopped in. She was about to buckle her seat belt when a strong feeling of d�ja vu made her pause. Looking directly ahead, she saw a piece of paper on her windshield. This time there was no hand holding it down; her windshield wiper had that duty. She hesitated, a funny feeling in her stomach, before getting back out of the car. She looked around the empty parking lot, seeing no one, before pulling the paper from its resting place. Why was she feeling so strange? It was probably just a note from Liz or something. Still, her hands shook as she unfolded it.
Her mouth went dry as she read the words: YOU WON'T GET AWAY WITH IT. She glanced around again, but no one was in sight. What was this? Get away with what? The only out-of-the-ordinary thing she'd done recently was...Oh god. Her very public fight with Michael.
Without giving it a moment's thought, she scrambled into the Jetta and started it, pulling out of the lot with a screech of tires. Okay. Keep calm. Nothing to get worried about here. Just because you've been on the receiving end of a couple of very strange messages, there was no need to panic. No problem. A few minutes later, she found she'd pulled up in front of Michael's apartment building. She'd driven there almost without realizing it. She'd meant to head out to the Crashdown, but here she was.
Nervously, she got out of the car and headed up to Michael's apartment. Knocking loudly on his door, she fidgeted uncomfortably as her mind raced. What was she doing there? Something strange happens, and she freaks and runs to Michael? Like he was going to be able to do anything about it. Right. So much for giving him some space. There was no answer to her knock, and she felt relieved. Okay. She wouldn't make a big deal of this. She'd just head to work and tell Liz about it. Her very rational friend would come up with a logical reason for the note and they'd laugh together and everything would be just fine and dandy. Obeying her own instructions, Maria turned and headed back down the hall, only to be brought up short as Michael started up the stairway.
He looked at her for a moment before continuing up the stairs. "What's up?" he asked.
She felt stupid now. Fumbling for a reason for her presence, she heard herself begin to babble, "I'm not here to invade your space or anything. I'm just..." What? Running to him with all her problems even though he was busy trying to deal with his own? "Ummm...I came to get the sketch you found."
His hands in his pockets, he looked down at her. "Why?" he asked.
She stumbled for a few seconds, trying to give an answer. Any answer. "Ummm...I...Look, it's mine and I want it." She spoke firmly. "Enough said."
He eyed her consideringly for another moment before acquiescing. Pulling his keys from his pocket, he unlocked his door. "Wait here," he said shortly before stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
Maria stared at the door. What was this? It wasn't like she'd never been in his apartment before. And now he couldn't even stand to have her inside for one minute? She fumed silently, her brow wrinkling. What did he think he was hiding? Contraband? Dirty magazines? Sexy alien women with big--
Michael opened the door and looked at her questioningly. She wiped the annoyed look off her face.
"Here." He handed her the folded-up paper.
She took it and fingered it nervously. "Thanks." After a moment, she turned to go.
His voice made her pause. "You okay?"
She carefully pasted a cheerful smile on her face before turning back to face him. "Of course I'm okay. I'm just fantastic, as a matter of fact. Never been better." Uh-oh. Better shut up now. She watched him watch her, his eyes narrowed. Finally he gave a little half-shrug and leaned against the doorjamb. She gave one more smile and headed down the hall, well aware that his eyes followed her until she was out of his sight.
* * * * *
Bookbag in hand, Maria raced up the stairs leading from the Crashdown's back room to the Parkers' home. Like she'd done a million times before, she headed straight for Liz's room. The door was open and the desk light was on, but Liz wasn't there. Maria paused for a moment, and then, hearing voices on the roof patio outside Liz's window, climbed out.
Liz and Max were in mid-conversation, Liz sitting on her lounge chair and Max leaning up against the wall of the building. "Oops," Maria blurted. "Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt."
"You didn't," Liz responded, smiling. "Nothing important, anyway."
"You sure?" the blonde girl asked. "'Cause I can go downstairs and talk to you after my shift."
Liz looked at her, eyebrows raised, taking in her harried appearance. "Maria, what's going on? You seem...upset."
"It's nothing," Maria assured her. "Look, I'll just head downstairs and get ready for work."
Max spoke up. "No need," he said with a kind smile. "I'll just leave you two to talk. 'Bye, Maria. I'll see you tomorrow, Liz." Taking one last glance at the petite brunette on the lounge, he climbed down the fire escape ladder and was gone.
"And what was that all about?" asked Maria quizzically. "For two people who say they're just friends, you sure looked awfully intent on each other."
"I know," Liz answered. "We still don't agree on my leaving him to fulfill his destiny, lead his people." She smiled shyly. "But we're talking about it."
"Lizzy!" cried Maria, happy for her friend. "I knew you couldn't hold out on him. It's so obvious how much he loves you." She looked at Liz's rosy face. "And truth to tell, I never understood how you could just walk away from him like that. Not when you loved each other."
"I know you didn't. I'm not sure how I could, either. I just know it was what I had to do." She looked at Maria, suddenly unsure of what to say. "I wish I could explain it to you, Maria. But I really appreciate you being there for me, even though I can't."
"Hey, best friends, remember? I've always got your back, Liz. No matter what."
Smiling gratefully at her friend, Liz changed the subject. "So what is so important that you had to rush over here for? I thought you had rehearsal this afternoon."
"They're working on scenes I'm not in. And I did want to show you something." She looked at Liz intently. "Do me a favor, okay? This is kept between us."
"Sure," Liz said, startled. "If that's what you want. What's going on?"
Maria reached into her bookbag and fished out two pieces of paper--the note she'd found on her car that afternoon and the sketch she'd just gotten from Michael. "I think someone's playing a practical joke on me, and it's got me a little weirded out," she admitted. "This is the note I found in my locker on Monday, and this was left on my car this afternoon." She handed them to Liz, who unfolded them and studied them carefully.
"Are you sure it's a practical joke?" Liz asked. "It seems a bit more...malevolent than that. Who do we know who would do something like this?"
Maria dropped her bookbag and sat on the lounge chair next to Liz. "No. Uh-uh. See, you're supposed to tell me I'm imagining things. That it's nothing. You're falling down on the job, Liz."
Her best friend looked at her seriously and replied, "I'm sorry. I wish I could do that. But this note--what aren't you going to get away with? And the sketch. It's obviously you. Anyone could see that. Honestly, it worries me a little. I wish I knew what it all means."
"You and me both," Maria chimed in.
"The note is disturbing enough, but why didn't you show me the drawing earlier?"
"I was going to, but...well, Michael had it."
"Michael?"
Maria nodded. "He picked it up at lunch on Monday and wouldn't give it back to me."
"That's odd," mused Liz. "But you have it now."
"After I found today's note, I headed over to Michael's and retrieved it."
"Well, Michael's usually the first one to jump on the paranoia bandwagon. What did he say about it?"
"Nothing about the sketch. And I...I didn't tell him about the other note."
"Why not?" asked Liz.
"Not everything has to do with the Czechoslovakians, Liz," Maria pointed out. "Besides, I didn't want him spending time thinking about other things when he should be concentrating on unscrambling his brain! First things first," she added firmly.
"I thought you were going to give him some time to deal with things on his own," Liz reminded her gently.
"I am. He wanted space; I'm giving him space. But it's been three days! What is he waiting for?" complained Maria.
Liz gave her a sympathetic smile before turning back to the papers in her hands. "About these notes, Maria, I--" she began.
"No, Liz. You promised to keep this between us. Don't tell anyone, okay? I just...well, I hoped you would tell me not to worry about it, but since you didn't, I just want some time to think about it. Let's get through one problem before dealing with another. Please?"
Liz reluctantly nodded. "Okay."
* * * * *
Alex groaned as he looked at the stack of boxes piled haphazardly at the back of the garage. What a way to spend a Saturday morning. There were lots of things he could be doing--fun, interesting things. But no, here he was cleaning out the garage. Woohoo. With that expression of excitement out of the way, he decided to move all the boxes into the middle and then start sorting. Luckily both of his parents were out, so there was plenty of space to work with both cars gone. His bike didn't take up much room, after all.
Picking up the first box, he carried it to the front of the garage and dropped it with a thud. Oops. He hoped there wasn't anything breakable in there. Heading back to the pile, he grabbed a very tall, bulky box and began to move blindly to the front, the box blocking his view.
"Whitman," he heard.
Stopping in his tracks, Alex shook his head. That had sounded like...No, there was no way he would be seeking him out. He must be imagining things. Well, he could quit being a total doofus; there was one way to find out. He set the box down next to the first one and looked up. It was. "Guerin," he said calmly.
Michael stood in the open doorway, looking very out of place framed against the Whitmans' neat lawn. He didn't speak. Well, that wasn't exactly unusual. Alex waited for a moment before deciding that he had work to do. "Well, if you're not going to tell me why you're here, at least you can help me move these boxes," he said. Michael seemed to mull this over a moment before joining him inside the garage. "Just move the boxes from the back of the garage to the front," he instructed. "Then I can go through them, sort things, and put them back."
"Why?" Michael asked, not very curiously.
"Because my Dad told me to clean the garage, so that's what I'm doing. Cleaning the garage." Alex lifted a third box and began to carry it to the front. After another moment, Michael did the same. Alex noted that the alien had no trouble, lifting the heavy boxes as if they weighed nothing. Figures. Special powers and super-strength, all in one package. He idly wondered if this applied to all aliens, if Isabel...No, he wasn't going to go there.
In a short while, the back of the garage was empty. Alex grabbed a push broom and began to sweep the floor; Michael leaned against the garage wall and watched him. The silence would almost have seemed companionable, except that Alex knew there was something going on in Michael's brain. Why else would he be there? While he'd grown to like the tall loner, they weren't exactly chummy.
"So are you going to tell me what's up, or do I have to guess?" he said cheerfully.
Michael responded with one word. "Maria."
"Aaaahhh," Alex replied knowingly. "She getting on your case again? Look, I know you told her to give you some space, but she really cares about you. She's not one to sit back and watch while her friends..." He stopped as Michael shook his head.
"It's not that," he said tersely. "Here." He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Alex, who unfolded it. Wow. Someone sure had some anger in him.
"Hmmm. Interesting perspective. I'm not so sure about your choice of subject, though."
Michael frowned, but didn't seem to take umbrage at Alex's assumption. He spoke unemotionally. "I didn't draw it. Maria found it in her locker on Monday."
Alex studied the drawing again. "Somebody sure doesn't like her," he commented. "Any idea who? What does she think?"
Michael straightened up a bit. "I don't know. And you can't ask her."
"Why not?"
Looking the slightest bit uncomfortable, he replied, "Because she doesn't know I've got it." Alex raised his eyebrows, and Michael went on, "She dropped it on Monday and I found it. Then yesterday afternoon she...she came over to get it. And I gave her another one."
"Another one?" Alex questioned.
"I copied it and gave her the copy, okay? It wasn't hard. It's not a very good sketch," he replied, a wee bit defensively.
Raising his eyebrows, Alex said, "I see why you wouldn't want her to know. She won't be very happy with you. So why'd you do it in the first place?"
"I think something's really wrong here. When I first picked it up, I got a sense of...wrongness." He shook his head, unable to really describe what he'd felt.
"You had a vision?"
"Not exactly. I just got this feeling. I think Maria's in danger."
Alex tensed. "From what?"
"I don't know, all right? That's why I wanted to keep the sketch. I thought if I held onto it, maybe I would be able to get a vision, find out more."
"And have you?"
"Not so far," Michael admitted reluctantly.
"So why tell me about it? Why not Max and Isabel?"
"You're the only one I could tell who'd help keep an eye on her without getting on my case for...other things."
Oh. Okay. "What do you want me to do?"
"Just keep an eye peeled for anything strange."
Alex grinned. "Michael, that doesn't exactly narrow it down. Our whole lives have been strange for a year now."
"You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do," he answered, before his thoughts drifted back to Maria. "She's really not going to be happy when she finds this out, you know. And she will."
"Not if you don't tell her," the alien said stubbornly.
"She can sense when you're around, remember? What is she going to think when you start hanging around, watching all the time?"
"I'll deal with that when I have to."
Alex studied Michael. "There's still something you're not telling me. What else?"
"Just...keep an extra watchful eye on her when you know I'm around."
This didn't sound good. "Why?" Alex demanded.
Michael looked down at the floor before speaking softly. "I don't know what's going to hurt her. I can't tell where the danger comes from. What if it's from me?"
Continue to CHAPTERS 16, 17 and 18
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